


Deterioration

by anwenwrites



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:49:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anwenwrites/pseuds/anwenwrites
Summary: Nadya and Budi go to the bookstore to try to have a nice evening together after one of their fights, which are becoming more and more frequent. Nadya tries to seek solace in her favorite American classics, but Budi, who doesn't even like bookstores to begin with, has other ideas. See how their relationship, Nadya's life, and Budi's mental state all go downhill in 12 pages.
Kudos: 1





	Deterioration

Anwen Su

ENW 1805

Short Story 1

9/23/20

Deterioration

“What would Mom do if she were still here?”  
This question had reigned in eighteen-year-old Nadya’s mind ever since her mother, a wildlife conservationist who had been particularly passionate about preserving the orangutans, died trying to save one of the giant red apes when Nadya was just thirteen. Right when she needed her mother most. And even though she and her father needed each other more than ever, ever since the accident, he just hadn’t treated her the same way. But Nadya could never put her finger on exactly what had changed in her father. She simply never questioned it. Over the next five years, Nadya grew into a bashful young girl, whose lack of guidance led her, when faced with a challenge, to ask herself what her late mother would do in the same situation. 

Right now, the challenge was getting her father, Budi, to calm down. Lately he had taken to screaming at her over anything that had to do with college. She couldn’t imagine why. All she understood was that today, she showed her father a list of colleges that had the classes she was looking for, and he flew into a rage over how she’d never be successful pursuing a career in literature and shouldn’t waste her time.

Nadya had few friends. Actually, she had  _ no  _ friends. For three years after her mother’s death, her routine had been wake up, go to school, come home to an empty house while her dad was presumably working at the fire station, and clean him up and put him to bed after he stumbled into the house drunk way past midnight. Eventually, and thankfully for Nadya, Budi’s devotion to his religion prevailed over the seduction of the numbing effect that alcohol had on his broken heart. By sheer willpower, he kicked his drinking habits and once again became the pious, by-the-book Muslim he had always been. 

Chills crept up Nadya’s spine as she desperately tried to push her father’s stint with alcoholism out of her mind. She always made a valiant effort to banish those thoughts at all cost. For some odd reason, each time she and her father fought, she worried he would turn to alcohol again. His threats, when he flew into his occasional rages, were volatile, and his moods had the stability of a massive dying star ready to explode at any moment. 

“We don’t have to fight, Dad,” she rehearsed in the mirror. Over the past year, she’d found herself doing this often. “I’ll listen to you if you’ll listen to me, and we can just talk.” 

Her reflection glared back at her, reproachful eyes scorching like hot black coals. They were her father’s snapping dark eyes, the very ones he had passed on to her, scolding her with the power of his expression alone. She  _ hated  _ seeing herself in him. The expression Nadya saw in the mirror was the same look her father used to give her when she was a child and refused to go to bed because she wanted to stay up and watch TV with her mother. And now, a lifetime later, her mother was dead, and eighteen-year-old Nadya was the one practicing looking her fifty-year-old father firmly in the eyes and telling him to act reasonably. 

Beads of sweat blossomed on Nadya’s forehead. She wiped them away with the end of her lavender hijab. The truth was that she had no idea what her mother would do. Her father never flew into rages back when her mother was alive. 

Nadya’s chest began to flutter up and down in quick, shallow breaths, and she averted her gaze to the plain while wall to steady herself. Only when she stopped staring herself down in the mirror did she realize her heart was racing a mile a minute. She snuck one more surreptitious glance at her disapproving reflection, then rapidly shook her head and flounced away from the mirror. The talk with her dad would have to wait. First, she needed to calm down herself. She’d already learned the hard way that yelling back, even when she was right,  _ never  _ made things better for her. 

Nadya’s overwhelming need to get away from her own reflection—more specifically, the eyes—manifested itself in the form of the sudden inexorable pull towards her white bookshelf. Her mother had gotten it as a gift on Nadya’s third birthday and painted dainty blue flowers on it. Nadya loved the bookshelf immediately, and it had never moved from its spot in the corner of her room near the window. It sat there, gathering an abundance of books, which were organized in a very particular way that only Nadya could understand. 

Nadya’s favorites, the American classics, were lined up on the top shelf, which was also the biggest. Their worn spines protruded from the bookshelf, as she had so many favorite American classics that she had had to stuff them in to make them all fit. On the middle shelf was a neat row of Indonesian novels that fell in and out of popularity among her classmates over the years. Sprinkled among them were a few travel books on Indonesia full of pictures of beaches and monuments. Nadya always marveled at how vast the world was and how many places there were in just her home country that she had never seen before. The bottom shelf held all her old textbooks and essays that she kept for reference. And below the bottom shelf was a small drawer that held the few books that Nadya wasn’t sure what to do with, including a book on orangutans that her father had given her when she turned fourteen, her first birthday after her mother’s death.

Just as Nadya was about to reach for her dog-eared copy of  _ Catcher in the Rye,  _ a sharp knock sounded at her door. “Come in,” she called to her father. 

The door opened, revealing a strangely subdued Budi. One good thing about him, Nadya noted, was that he was always sincerely apologetic after they fought. What was unusual about this time, though, was the way Budi tiptoed into Nadya’s room with his head down, like a dog with his tail tucked between his hind legs. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Budi said to his daughter. “Whether or not I agree with your wishes, you didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you, Dad,” replied Nadya. She hoped he didn’t notice that she was shaking. He was bad enough when angry, but what worried Nadya the most was when he felt sad or guilty. She’d figured from the many times he had told her to hide her tears that he’d somehow gotten it into his head that crying was something to be ashamed of. His remark about not agreeing with her wishes was a stone dropping into the pit of her stomach. He may have apologized for yelling, but this college fight was far from over. 

Something between a grin and a leer crossed Budi’s face. Nadya shrunk back. She wished she could wash the smirk out of her father’s smile so it would go back to the way it was before. But the past couldn’t be changed. 

Just when Nadya thought the dread couldn’t get any worse, Budi finally spoke. 

“I’ll take care of your chores today,” he offered. “Consider it my apology.”

Nadya wanted to scream. Some apology! Chores calmed her down. Chores were the only thing that made her feel normal when she was at home with her father. But she feared his reaction should she shoot down his “apology”, so she plastered a sweet smile on her face for him. 

“You’re the best, Dad!” she exclaimed. 

The hint of a genuinely happy expression flashed over Budi’s face for a split second, and then the half-leer was back. “That’s not all,” he said. “How about we go to the bookstore?”

_ Now  _ the apology felt more acceptable to Nadya. She could spend hours in the bookstore, curled up on a stool or in a chair while she read book after book. She rarely bought those books, for she would read so fast she would finish them in one sitting. Unless, of course, they were American classics. Then she’d buy them just so she could read them over and over again. 

“Sure, Dad, I’d love to,” replied Nadya, standing up to get her shoes. 

Budi frowned. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

“I am, Dad, I promise.”

There was no doubt in Nadya’s mind that something was off. She considered herself a very forgiving person and wasn’t used to having someone complain about her reaction to their apology. But because her father’s good moods had become less and less frequent, Nadya reminded herself that if her mother were still alive, she would focus on the positives and get the most out of them. So she put on her shoes and followed her father to the car. 

Budi bit back an impatient remark as Nadya lagged behind him. Surely she could try to move a little faster. After all, he was only doing this for her. He had never been a fan of books himself; as a firefighter who had been on the job for twenty years, he had long since grown accustomed to being on the run whenever duty called. Sitting in a quaint, silent bookstore was not his idea of a relaxing afternoon. He would have much preferred to have a cup of strong black coffee outside by the bustling streets of Balikpapan, watching people go by. Unless they were those noisy Western tourists, of course, like the whiny characters Nadya inexplicably loved to read about. But the bookstore was the only way he could think of to make it up to Nadya for screaming at her earlier. 

“So,” said Nadya from the passenger seat. “Should we finish what we were talking about earlier?” She looked away timidly, but watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

“No,” Budi snapped. Nadya flinched. Budi’s heart sank, knowing that he had already broken his unspoken promise to himself not to upset Nadya again today. 

“I mean, not right now,” he corrected himself. “Let’s try to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, shall we?”

Nadya nodded once, resigned. “All right. But Dad, you  _ do  _ know how much I dream of seeing the places where my favorite American novels take place.”

Budi gripped the steering wheel in an iron clutch. A strange, uncontrollable anger pulsed through his entire body as he imagined Nadya on a plane all the way to the other side of the world. He didn’t know why, but it was similar to the way he felt when his wife died in that horrible orangutan attack. When he knew that her fate was out of his control. That she was dead, and he could do absolutely nothing about it. 

“Dad?” Nadya asked. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he lied, distraught, yet at the same time feeling blessed to have a daughter who cared so much about his well-being. “I am.”

Minutes later, he pulled into the bookstore parking lot. Nadya bounded eagerly out of the car and into the bookstore. Budi chuckled to himself, for a moment forgetting where he was. But then the reminder of his whereabouts slapped him in the face in the form of the ostentatious neon label that read  _ Balikpapan’s Best Books.  _ In English, no less. He hated himself for bringing Nadya to this bookstore. He knew she’d head straight to the American novels. Every time she picked up one of those abominations, it put the notion in her head that she might actually  _ go  _ to America. And Budi would never be able to live with himself if he let her go and something happened. 

Budi sauntered into the bookstore with the enthusiasm of a criminal being led to his execution. Nadya had already disappeared into the endless rows of full bookshelves, presumably to look for something in English. When Budi realized he couldn’t find her, the shelves suddenly seemed twenty feet tall, like they’d swallow up anyone who dared to venture into them.

Unable to bring himself to follow Nadya into the endless stacks of books, Budi lingered by the piles of books at the entrance, the ones that were marked fifty percent off. He had no interest in most of them, but one big book in particular caught his eye.  _ Endangered Wildlife _ , the title read. 

The front cover of the book was a forest of lush, green trees. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, casting a golden glow over the entire forest. The tranquil background was in stark contrast to the image in the foreground: an enormous orangutan trapped under an old cart, and a slim, dark-haired woman crouching down next to it, clearly trying to calm it down enough to rescue it from under the cart. 

And then it all came back to him.

In that picture, he saw the worst day of his life. 

He saw Amirah crouched next to the helpless orangutan. He saw her push the cart off of it. He saw her step closer to examine its injuries. And then, try as he might to stop the images from coming, he saw the orangutan panic, thrashing around wildly. He saw Amirah try to calm it down, heard her soothing voice murmuring that she was going to save it. And then he saw it jump on top of her, not understanding that she was just trying to help. He saw his normally stoic wife scrambling desperately underneath the crazed animal, screaming for help until the sweet relief of unconsciousness reduced her cries to choked whispers. He saw her mangled body lying on the forest floor. It had already been too late by the time they had gotten her to the hospital. 

The front cover of that book could have been an exact copy of that fateful day.

In that picture, he saw the day his wife died.

Budi flung the book away from himself. It landed on the ground with a  _ thud.  _ All around him, people stared, some with concern, some with disapproval. Budi, who made it a point to preserve his big, strong firefighter persona at all costs, turned red all the way to his ears and reluctantly picked up the book. He held it by its spine with two fingertips, as if it were a pot full of scalding hot water that would hurt him if he touched it any more. But in all honesty, Budi would have preferred the pot.

Budi had thought this would be a good book to get for Nadya, but now he wasn’t so sure. How was he supposed to keep Amirah’s memory alive when the only way he could think of gave him horrible flashbacks?

Budi turned the book over in his hands, steeling himself to face the front cover. 

“Oh, my beautiful Amirah,” he whispered, as if the woman in the picture would somehow turn into his wife and step out of the book into real life, “what would you do?”

Budi knew the answer to that. Amirah had loved reading, too. She would be miles into this maze of books right now, wrist-deep in the wildlife section. She would look for books on orangutans. They were her favorite animals. She literally sacrificed her life trying to save them. Budi tried not to think about the fact that if Amirah were still alive, she’d probably be holding the very same book that he had picked up right now.

But what would she do about Nadya?

“Dad!” Right on cue, Nadya rushed up to him, her voice an excited, hushed whisper. “Can I please get these books?”

Budi gave Nadya’s selections a once-over. In her left hand, she held an English textbook for advanced learners. Since when had Nadya become so fluent in English? And in her right hand, she held a copy of  _ To Kill a Mockingbird.  _ This was the book that she had wanted for her fourteenth birthday. Her first birthday after Amirah died. 

“Absolutely not,” he snapped. 

“But Dad,” she pleaded, “you know I love—”

“I am well aware. And I would really prefer it if you got this book.”

He thrust  _ Endangered Wildlife  _ into her arms, making her drop the other books. Keeping the wildlife book would mean facing the front cover regularly, but that was a price Budi was willing to pay. 

Nadya shot him a reproachful look as she picked the books she had dropped up off of the ground. “But why?” she asked. 

“It’s more like your mother.”

“But I’m not—”

_ “You will get the orangutan book and that’s final!” _

The words came out of Budi’s mouth before he could stop himself. He felt the faintest twinge of guilt, a reminder that if Amirah were still here, she  _ definitely  _ would have bought whatever books Nadya wanted. But that was simply not an option for Budi.

Nadya, on the other hand, stared at her father like she didn’t recognize him. There was something speculative in her eyes, he noted, like she was trying to figure him out, but couldn’t. At last, she carefully placed the English textbook and the copy of  _ To Kill a Mockingbird _ back on the shelf, as if they were rare heirlooms of great value. Her eyes welled up with tears.

“All right,” she acquiesced. “I’ll take the orangutan book.”

The father and daughter headed to the checkout counter, the former grimly triumphant, the latter hopelessly defeated. As the cashier scanned the book, his eyes lit up.

“My buddy Rasi would  _ love  _ this book!” he exclaimed. “He works at Orangutan Rescue Project, about ten minutes north of here.”

“How inspiring, helping those animals,” Budi replied. 

“I’ll say!” The cashier placed the book into a brown paper bag. “You know, they’re actually hiring for full-time jobs.”

Budi’s eyes glinted. “That’s wonderful,” he said. “If I see anyone who’s interested, I’ll let them know.” He looked meaningfully at Nadya, whose helpless expression all but screamed  _ Please no.  _

Budi shoved the brown paper bag containing the book into Nadya’s hands, and they left the bookstore. 

As soon as they were in the car, Nadya insisted, “Dad, I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want a full-time job. I want to go to college.”

Those dreaded words again. Nadya might as well have been twisting a knife in his stomach. 

“Think about it, Nadya,” he said. “A full-time job saving orangutans. Isn’t that a noble cause?”

“Well, yes, but…” Nadya trailed off, then shook her head.

Uh-huh. No good comeback. That’s what Budi thought. 

“Then it’s settled,” he said with an air of finality. “We’ll contact them tomorrow and see if we can get you an interview.”

“Dad, what about college?”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD ABOUT COLLEGE, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOUNG LADY?!” 

Just like in the bookstore, Budi couldn’t stop himself. His anger was an erupting volcano, a faucet being twisted to full. But this time, there was no guilt. Only desperation. 

“Dad,  _ please  _ don’t yell!” Nadya cried, shaking in terror as tears streamed down her face. 

Budi ignored his daughter’s pleas. As he sped onto the highway, he ranted, “Let me make one thing clear. I am  _ not  _ paying for college as long as this job is on the table. Your mother believed in sacrificing her own desires for a good cause. I can’t believe you turned out so selfish. Your mother  _ died  _ doing what she thought was right. Don’t you think you owe it to her to carry that on?”

Nadya sobbed, “You always have to make things worse by bringing her up!”

“Please, Nadya,” he implored, his voice already calm and even again. “Think of her. Think of how proud she would be. How happy she would be that her daughter was carrying on her legacy!”

Nadya faltered. “I—I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.” She wiped her tears. 

“And?”

“And that’s all I’ll say on the matter. I’m still not happy I have to give up college.”

Budi peeled his eyes off the road just long enough to steal a glance at Nadya. The steely determination that had been in her eyes earlier had been replaced by despondence, and that was enough for Budi to know that at least for now, Budi had won the battle. 

He didn’t  _ want  _ there to be a battle. But as long as Nadya kept resisting, what choice did he have? He saw so much potential in her to be just like her mother, and she was just going to let it go to waste.

Budi pulled into the driveway and turned the engine off. Without a word, he entered the house and retreated to his room, where he would spend his evening paging through his wedding photo albums, reliving life back when he thought it was complete and talking to the pictures. Nadya followed him into the house, intending to read  _ Catcher in the Rye  _ for the umpteenth time until she forgot all her problems. But she knew this time would be different. Now that she knew she wasn’t going to college, somehow, reading her favorite American classics felt all in vain.  _ Endangered Wildlife  _ remained untouched in the backseat of Budi’s car.

On the way to her room, Nadya passed her father’s door. It was closed, as always. With a heavy sigh, she decided she would leave him in peace and made her way to her own room.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the night.


End file.
